


The Prince and the Maiden

by Bluemoonflower



Category: Atonement (2007), Atonement - Ian McEwan
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, F/M, Sexual Content, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8065852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluemoonflower/pseuds/Bluemoonflower
Summary: Briony Tallis used to like fairy tales.But that was before.





	

Briony looked at her hands. Submerged in the fountain, they looked like two pale fish. Humming, she slowly moved them back and forth through the filtered sunlight, making elegant figures. It was a relief, the cool kiss of the water on her skin. It was a sweltering day, and the heat had made her moody and listless. Three ‘o clock and the house lay silent under the leaden sun. 

And something inside her itched.

A brooding, almost nervous feeling that annoyed her but that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn’t completely new. More something of which the bud had existed already, lying dormant in her belly, and that was now suddenly blooming. She looked up at the Triton-figure on the fountain. His staring eyes made her uneasy. They were whiter than she remembered. She noticed the algae on the dolphins was gone too. Had Hardman cleaned the stone?

Briony realised it was the first time she had been near the fountain all summer. In fact, it was the first time she had even looked at the thing since that day in August, almost a year ago, when she had seen Cecilia and Robbie standing here. 

She pulled her hands out of the basin and took a step back. The pulsating feeling inside her had grown. Water dripped from her fingers, leaving wet patches on her skirt. Was it the feeling that had inadvertently driven her here today? To the scene of the crime, as it were?

Briony closed her eyes and shook her head, as if to chase the thought away. This wasn’t the scene of the crime. The island near the temple, that was where it had happened.

 _Or is the fountain the scene of_ my _crime?_

She opened her eyes again, gasping as the feeling inside of her suddenly peaked. With a little shriek she turned on her heels and ran. Not towards the house. The idea of going inside of that silent, looming monster where the energy of her bed-ridden mother haunted the rooms and corridors filled her with revulsion. Today her emotions were too big for the house, too big for her body. She needed to be outside, to see the sky.

She ran in the other direction, over the bridge. And then over the second one. It felt good to run. Like some of the energy that had been building up inside of her finally found a release. She ran and ran, and when she could run no more she stopped and put her hands on her knees, breathing hard. She was surprised how winded she was. Over the last year the childlike inclination to run instead of walk everywhere had all but vanished. She had spent most of her time sitting behind her typewriter, reading or dreaming, far away in the corners of her mind. It seemed that for all this exploration inside her head, her body had paid a price. 

She looked at the ground beneath her. Her feet, in their strappy sandals, were as pale in the shade as her hands had been under water, the skin on them soft and porcelain-like. She could see the blue of her veins. Could almost hear the soft whisper of the blood that moved inside of them. A few dapples of sunlight made brighter spots. The earth was rich here, dark and moist. She was in the forest, near the river.

Briony looked up and realised her feet were traitors. They had rescued her from one crime scene to transport her to another.

The river meandered here, looping on itself, thus making a natural swimming pool where the water was almost still. The pool where Robbie had taught her to swim…

She didn’t run. She couldn’t run anymore. Instead, she descended the small incline and sat down on the river bank with her back against a willow tree, overlooking the pool. In front of her, the water glistened in the sunlight. Insects danced and little specks of plant fluff drifted on the surface. Beyond, the actual river passed in a silent, powerful rush. 

Why had she jumped in, that day, all those years ago? Subjected herself to the turmoil of the river, with its dangerous undercurrents? Robbie had been furious, screaming at her that she could have gotten them both killed. But the fact was she had wanted to be saved by him. For she was a fair maiden sweet, and the stories all said those were rescued by valiant princes. 

And saved her he had, her Robbie.

She remembered the cold embrace of the water, the complete surrender of her body to its force. And then Robbie’s powerful arms around her. The surrender to _his_ force…

The feeling returned, and this time it didn’t feel like an itch, but like the river itself, strong and swollen. She opened her mouth to take in more air. She hadn’t thought about the swimming lesson in ages. Not even when she had witnessed that strange scene between Robbie and Cecilia by the fountain. But now, suddenly, the two events seemed insolubly linked. 

She saw Cecilia taking her blouse off again, and then her skirt, with those hurried, almost angry movements. In her underwear she had submerged herself into the fountain, while Robbie stood there watching, motionless. From where she was standing, Briony had only seen his back, but his posture had been so forceful and rigid, like the statue of Triton himself. He hadn’t jumped in the fountain after Cecilia to keep her from drowning, like he had jumped in the river after her. He had wanted Cecilia in. _Willed_ her in. And when she appeared again, all wet, her underdress clinging to her skin, he had watched and watched and watched…

Briony swallowed. Was that the real reason she resented Robbie so? The realisation he wasn’t a prince after all? Had the water in the fountain inadvertently awoken the memory of the river inside of her that day? Was it the contrast between those two events that had shocked her? ( _The betrayal…_ )

The last couple of weeks, she had been waking up in the middle of the night with an indistinctive feeling of something visceral and earthy. Something ancient and important and scary, that connected her to every living thing on earth. Before, when life was still simple, love had been a mere idea. Something out of a fairy tale, with grand romantic gestures such as jumping into a swollen stream and having your prince save you. But the earthy feeling had changed that. The vision of the prince had become muddy.

How could he be pure and bright and blue-eyed, when inside of his body those same feelings lurked somewhere? Wasn’t that more a trait for the villain of the story? Surely, good, clean princes didn’t look at the pubic hair of their princess as it shone through her wet underdress like a dark triangle. They didn’t watch her nipples rise under the gossamer fabric. Nor did they push her up against a bookcase, instead of giving her a kiss on their wedding feast.

They didn’t write words like C-U-N-T, either. They didn’t even _think_ words like that. No, that was not what princes did.

And it wasn’t what fair maidens dreamed of. 

Yet Briony did.

At night, alone in her room, smoky visions of the library. Cecilia’s long, smooth leg draped around Robbie’s waist. His hips moving, his sighs, Cecilia’s soft moans. It made her tingle. It made her sweat. It had even made her _touch_ herself, down there. Just for a second, before pulling her hand back as from a red-hot stove and then lying awake until morning, with the sheets pulled up all the way to her chin. She shook her head. It was all wrong. It was all _his_ fault. He was perverted, the villain of the story. And now she had it too. Caught it, she had, from him.

Briony breathed out, the air leaving her lungs in a shaky sigh. It was pleasant here, in the cool shade of the willow tree. A slight breeze caressed the damp skin of her arms. She thought about Robbie, all alone in his cell. Was it cool in prison too? She had a vague image of a small, dark room with iron bars in front of it, like a lion's cage.

What would she say to him, if she saw him now?

She imagined herself visiting him. His blue eyes behind the bars, the fury in them, just like when he had saved her from the river. The warden would open the cell, and the lion would lunge for her, grabbing her by the throat. And then they were alone and he would push her up against the wall as if it were a bookcase and command her like he had commanded Cecilia by the fountain.

A shiver ran up Briony’s spine. She felt shame. Guilt. 

_Arousal._

It felt good to have him punish her. She had no idea why. After all, it was _he_ who was guilty. ( _I saw him. I_ saw _him!_ ) Why would they have locked him up, otherwise?

And yet… her fantasies of valiant, clean and sensible princes had changed forever. He had her dreaming of villains now.

As Briony lay against the tree, her hands sought a way across her body. Images of the fountain flashed before her eyes again. The Briony who was pushed up against the wall of the prison cell was suddenly soaking wet. ( _Why would she be wet? It had been pouring down when she went to visit him, and she had forgotten an umbrella. Yes, that was it!_ ) Briony gasped as Robbie’s hands closed around her budding breasts. He kissed her neck, and she could feel his teeth brush against her skin. He bit her. Not hard, but it made her moan, just like Cecilia had. The fountain changed into the library, and Briony’s hands moved downwards. This was her greatest shame. She had sworn she would never fall so low again. But the feeling was like a tidal wave, it lifted her up and took her away. This time she would explore it fully, there was no other choice. 

It was hot under the tree now, sweltering. How come she had thought it cool just moments before? Her fingers slipped under skirt and into her panties. She inadvertently held her breath. The soft, warm flesh, like a peach, but more slippery. Cecilia moaned again, helpless to Robbie’s thrusts. The princess was ruined now. A fallen woman. ( _Or was she the_ witch _of the story? Princesses didn’t usually stand up for the villains._ ) And then the library suddenly changed into the undergrowth near the temple. ( _Bare flesh in the darkness, a contorted silhouette, a sharp cry, a grunt, the_ troll _of the story._ ) Startled, like someone had moved a flashlight over a dead body, Briony closed her eyes and returned to the previous scene. Robbie and Cecilia in the library. Yes, that was a safer place. She didn’t want to think about that other thing.

Her breath escaped in small, panting sighs as Robbie took advantage of her in his cell, punishing her. She didn’t resist. In fact, she had never intended to. She surrendered herself to him willingly and completely, offering him her virtue and everything else he might desire from her. She wanted to let the lion devour her. To feel the wrath of the prince.

 

*

 

When it was all over, Briony got up and walked to the river. She wanted to submerge herself in the water, let it wash the sin away. But when she looked at the shining surface, the only thing she saw was Robbie’s face. This time, it was the prince who was drowning. And only _she_ could save him.

She would have to jump.

 

*

 

Briony stood there, motionless, watching the water. Then she turned around, and walked away.


End file.
